


Hopeless Dummy Says What

by hanktalkin



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: 7 + 1, Ambiguous Relationships, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 22:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15543630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanktalkin/pseuds/hanktalkin
Summary: 7 times Soldier said something kinda gay and 1 time he said somethingreallygay





	Hopeless Dummy Says What

Scout hated mornings.

The Demoman did not improve them.

“An’ _that_ , you dobbers, is how you make a breakfast mimosa,” Demo said proudly, displaying his creation to a contemplative Soldier and a half-asleep Scout. The drink was something only a Demoman could love, with its champagne substituted for scrumpy and oranges substituted for the expired prune juice Demo had found in the ration supplies.

Scout’s head threatened to fall out of his hand.

“Miraculous!” Soldier finally declared, making Scout’s head _actually_   fall off. “Ingenious even! Taking the bare essentials scavenged from our supply line and using them to make a deadly weapon of dastardly destruction!”

Demo sighed. “ _Nay_   lad, it’s not a Molotov Cocktail. I’m gonna drink it.”

Soldier looked between Demo and the mimosa, then put a hand to his chin, obviously needing more time to process the exact purpose of the drink. Demo sighed again.

“Well, I’m going to go enjoy this out on the roof if you lads don’t mind. ‘Scuse me.” He shuffled out of the kitchen with his affront to God in hand.

“Uhg, _finally_ ,” Scout moaned, rubbing his palms in his eyes. “The last thing I need in the morning is for him to be standing around all the time. He always smells like a goddamned brewery and it makes me wanna vomit.”

“What?” Soldier snapped to attention. “That is ridiculous! He smells great. Like old wood and aftershave!”

Scout made a face. “If your aftershave smells like a freakin’ frat party, you need to find a better can pally.” Soldier was too preoccupied trying to determine the strategic value of the prune tin to reply. “Uhg, whatever. I’m gunna make some toast you freaking weirdos.”

* * *

“Somehow, you two are more trouble than the sum of your parts,” Medic noted as he made Soldier lie on the examining table.

“Thank you,” Soldier nodded sagely.

Medic considered telling him that wasn’t a compliment, but that ran the risk of Soldier thinking hard about it—in which case they’d be here all night.

 “ _Ja ja_ ,” Medic said, unfastening the Quick-fix from his backpack and mounting it on its stand. “Just stop with all your rocket jumping and sticky jumping competitions. If I cannot keep up, you will continue to blow your own legs off.”

To illustrate, he pulled over his regular medigun and pointed the beam at Soldier’s obliterated kneecap.

“Don’t give me that, Nancy!” Soldier told Medic firmly. And he was shouting again. Wonderful. “ _You_   were the one who told us to jump more to try out your precious new toy!”

“That was before your self damage outpaced it, _dummkopf_.” Medic grabbed Soldier’s calf and rammed it back into its socket, ignoring the rather unmanly scream from his patient. “Your jumping is fine, but no more aerial races, _ja_?”

Sucking in a breath, Soldier pretended like his injured leg wasn’t making him whimper. “Sorry doc, can’t help it. Demoman and I have a special bond: we are two glorious eagles set free from our cages, soaring through the skies of war unfettered by gravity or tax season. We belong up there.”

“Arguing with you is like finding a purpose for an appendix.”

Soldier thought about that for a moment. “…Thank you.”

Medic pinched the bridge of his nose.

* * *

“Have you ever reveled in the glory of another man’s physique so much you wanted to reach out and touch it?” Soldier asked, completely and one hundred percent unprompted.

Heavy looked up from his reps to see Soldier staring brazenly across the weight room at the object of his interest. Demo himself was innocent to this new attention, too busy working himself on the pull-up bar.

“…No?” Heavy said, forgetting his one rule about not engaging with the Soldier unless absolutely necessary.

“Are you blind Russkie?” Soldier blanched. “Look at that perfect specimen! Tell me you don’t envy that body, those muscles, that raw expression of pure manhood!” Soldier swung his hand at Demoman dramatically, whose shirtless-ness shimmered with sweat as he brought his chin level with the bar.

Heavy looked away quickly. Sure he was used to the way some of his American teammates were excessively comfortable with nudity, but something about Soldier’s speech made his cheeks warm in a way it probably shouldn’t. “Heavy does not see big deal.”

“ _No big deal_? Are you out of your mind comrade?!” Soldier raised his voice. Heavy wanted to shush him, but knew from experience how well that would go. “Sure you’re strong, but _that_  is the apex of human perfection!”

The only good thing about this whole conversation was that Demo didn’t seem to hear them from across the room. Heavy intended to keep it that way. He put down his weight and said, “am going now.”

“Coward!” Soldier called after him. Still, he returned to his own reps as Heavy left the room, and Heavy got the distinct impression that he’d just keep staring at the Demoman until someone made him stop.

* * *

Burning away the last of the fuzz on the pipecleaner, Pyro held their project up to eye level. The friendship bracelets had gotten a little smaller post-melting, but that was all right, they were sure Demo would appreciate them anyway. After all, something homemade was the best way to repay a friend for helping out in a pinch! Now that the gifts were done, they skipped merrily to Demo’s room, the bracelets dangling in their gloved fingers. The first knock produced no answer, so they banged a second to get their friend’s attention. Still nothing. They considered grabbing their fire axe.

“Pyro!” Soldier barked, startling Pyro so hard they nearly dropped the gift. “What are you doing back here? Battle commences in twelve minutes!”

Was it that late already? Time really had gotten away from them while they were working; no wonder Demo hadn’t responded, he was probably down at the gates getting ready.

“ _I made Demo and I friendship bracelets_ ,” they explained. “ _He fixed my pilot light the other day, and I wanted to thank him_.” By way of explanation, they held a bracelet and gestured to the door.

Soldier pushed his helmet so he could fix Pyro with a squint. “Pyro…are you giving Demoman a ring?”

“ _No! It’s a bracelet, see_?” Pyro put it on to demonstrate, only to realize that it didn’t fit around their wrist, and actually was better suited to their gloved fingers. “… _Well, it was supposed to be_.”

Soldier stared at them harder. Usually Pyro was pretty good at making themself understood to the rest of the team, combining tone of voice with elaborate charades. However, Soldier was Soldier, and continued to analyze them like he could put together the mystery of their mumbling all on his own.

“Ah! I get it!” he said suddenly, slapping Pyro on the shoulder. “You are going to propose! Well I’m very happy for you two; Demoman is a courageous warrior, anyone would be lucky to marry him.”

Pyro groaned, which Soldier bunglingly took as agreement.

“This is wonderful news!” But as he pulled Pyro in close, his voice dropped to a warning. “But here this Mumbles: you ever disrespect him, you are going to have ME to deal with, understand?”

“ _Soldier. Let go of me_.”

“Good! Glad we’re on the same page!” He did, at least, let Pyro go after that and trotted off down the hall. “Now come on private, we have a battle to win!”

Pyro looked between the Soldier, the bracelets, and Demo’s door. Closing their hand around the piece of metal, they tucked them in their suit pocket, deciding they should come up with a different gift if bracelets were going to be so much trouble.

* * *

Spy watched the two of them track mud for fifteen feet out of the entryway before deigning to say anything. “You two truly need to pick up a less filthy hobby.”

“Ach, relax Spy,” Demo said, wringing out his beanie. “It’s just a bit ‘o dirt.”

“Yeah Frenchie,” Soldier added. “If you didn’t get so prissy about your damn suit, you might learn something about robust exercise!”

It didn’t rain often in dustbowl, but when it did it rained _hard_. The dirt, hard packed and not used to holding moisture, turned to knee-deep mud within the hour, and most of the team had the sense to stay indoors while everything around them turned to mush.

 _Most_  of the team.

“I assure you I find many ways too keep in shape that don’t involve wrestling in the yard like a couple of pigs.” At the mention of his suit, Spy absently reached up and brushed some imaginary dust off it.

“We are not pigs!” Soldier bellowed. “We are men! Men who like to get down and get dirty!”

A several second pause. “…I see.”

Demo’s attempts to hold back his snorting failed, and he laughed so hard spit between the fingers of his hand. “Jane…ach Jane you kill me.” He clomped Soldier on the back as he doubled over.

Soldier grinned from ear to ear, wearing that expression oft crossed his face: not a clue what was going on, but just happy to be there.

“I’ll leave you to that then,” Spy said passively. On his way out the door he turned and said over his shoulder, “do clean up this mess though. I’m certainly not going to do it.”

Although he got several affirmatives for the pair, he still got the sinking suspicion that there would dirt coating the entire hall floor come morning.

* * *

Fire crackled merrily under stars, tuning guitar and flames making a peaceful symphony. Engie watched idly across the camp as Soldier offered a cup of boiled prune juice to Salty Pete, and when that didn’t work, pour the liquid into the empty bottle of their sleeping Demoman.

“He sure goes out quick, huh?” Engie said, cocking his chin in Demo’s direction. “He must drink a mighty lot to drop off faster than the rest of us.”

“Mmhmm,” was all Soldier replied.

That what was nice about their Friday night campfires: Engie had found a while ago that something about music and cloudless skies made Soldier a lot more subdued. “Subdued” meaning “easier to manage,” which was something the base needed every now and again.

“My daddy always said to sleep with one eye open if you ever camp out in the desert,” Engie moseyed on. “Back in Texas, all the nasty critters come out in the night, scorpions and jackalopes and the like. Gotta stay on your toes if you cross into their territory.” He strummed a few notes. “‘A course, our partner here don’t really have that option. He sleeps with one eye open, he might as well be awake.”

Soldier nodded, head in both hands as he followed Engie’s gaze to look at the Demoman.

“Poor fella. He ever tell you how he lost it?”

“Uh-huh,” was all Soldier said. Then, in answer to a question Engie didn’t ask, “it’s not all bad though. It suits him. Makes him look more handsome.”

Engie’s fingers hit an odd not in the strings, but a quick glance at the Soldier showed he hadn’t even noticed. Furrowing his brow he watched Soldier watch Demo with half-opened eyes.

“If you say so, Sol.” Engie dropped it. Instead he picked up a soft tune while the Soldier continued to stare at his teammate wistfully.

* * *

“What about you mate? What’s you’re ideal Sheila?”

It was rare the Sniper could actually hold a conversation with Soldier, but for once the man had sat still long enough for Sniper to actually find something to say. Granted that had quickly divulged into Sniper discussing his various kinks in gory detail, but hey, Soldier hadn’t gone running for the hills had he?

“Me?” Soldier blinked, the first time he’d been directly addressed since the conversation outside the armory had started. “I don’t know…”

“Awh come on,” Sniper poked. “Tell me something. All you’ve done is stand there ‘n gawk at me like I’m growing a fourth nipple.” That might be because Soldier had no idea what ninety percent of Sniper’s terminology was referring to, but still.

“Um, alright I guess.” Soldier thought hard. He thought so hard and for so long Sniper realized it may have been a bad idea to ask until- “well! Shelly would be an excellent fighter! Glorious in battle, acclimated to the art of war. She would love freedom! And explosions! And take her liquor by the barrel, none of this frizzy-fruity-girly nonsense. Oh, and she’d be funny too! A woman who cannot laugh might as well be a commie!”

Soldier had shouted it all out in one breath, and impressive feat even for his well-practiced lungs. He huffed, and when Sniper didn’t say anything, raised an eyebrow at him.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked Sniper.

“Nothing. It just sounded like you were describing…”

The helmet just continued to look back blankly.

“…You know what, never mind. Let’s just go back to what we were talking about. Ah, right! Watersports.”

“That’s the thing with the canoes, right?” Soldier asked suspiciously.

“…Sure. Let’s go with that.”

* * *

A chiming chorus of _Victory_ echoed around Dustbowl, the battlefield left scarred and blood splattered until the next wave of Respawn came to wipe it clean. The two living members of their team panted in the throes of success, simultaneously realizing they were the only survivors.

“ _Oof_ ,” Demo said as he slumped against the wall. “I need a drink.”

He pulled out his scrumpy and found it to be lacking.

“Demoman!” Soldier said (yelled), trotting over. “Are you wounded, private? We’ll get you to Medic ASAP!”

Soldier was already tugging on his arm before he could say, “ah ‘m fine lad! Just got all the wind knocked out ‘a me is all.” He gently batted Soldier away.

“Oh. Um.” Soldier rubbed the back of his neck. “Well! We should still go back to base to celebrate with our team!”

“What’s your hurry Soldier?” Demo patted the ground next to him. “C’mon, have a seat. Relaxing for a minute won’t kill us.”

At first Soldier looked like he was going to refuse, but Demo knew exactly the not-quite-puppy-eyed look to give to make him grudgingly relent. He dropped down at Demo’s side, letting out an exhausted huff of his own.

“Never realize how tired you are until you actually stand still,” Demo noted, massaging his bad knee and gazing out at a bullet-riddled world around them. Honestly, the thing hurt so bad some days he wanted to pull an Engineer and just chop the whole thing off.

“That is why I am never still!” Soldier countered. “I am always ready, keen eyes sharp, ever prepared for when the next attack will-!”

Demo slapped him in the side of the helmet.

“Hey!” he barked. “What in the name of James K Polk was that for??”

“Just checking those ever-prepared reflexes mate,” Demo said with his shit-eating grin. “‘Sides, I can’t be the only one admitting weakness here. You make me look bad.”

Soldier shoved him in retaliation, but Demo was honestly too tired to get into a match with his friend. Instead he half-heartedly bumped their shoulders together.

“You’re getting old.” Soldier somehow made it sound like an accusation. “A little battle shouldn’t make you pant like a beatnik in a sweater store.”

“You can go right back to base if that’s what you want,” Demo challenged.

That shut Soldier up. Despite being one of angriest, stubborn, _surliest_ members of the team, sometimes all it took was a little reality to snap him out of.

Soldier folded his arms and stared sightlessly ahead. Finally, he admitted, “I’ll stay.”

“Mmmhhm. Thought so.”

“What’s that’s s’posed to mean, Scottie?” Soldier demanded indignantly.

“Means you’re always staying, even when it sounds like you’d rather be anywhere else.” Demo knocked his foot against Soldier’s. “Why is that? That you’re always with me?”

More indignation looked like it was about to come pouring out of Soldier’s mouth, but he snapped it shut at the last second. His arms crunched tighter around his middle as he somehow folded his arms even more.

His eyes flicked to his boots. “Because you’re my friend.” He tried so say it as matter-of-factly as possible.

“Aye?” Demo scooted so he could himself in between Soldier and the wall, tucking his chin on Soldier’s shoulder. “Is that all?”

“You’re my…best friend.” Soldier grumbled to himself.

“Awwww,” Demo said, nuzzling into the nook of Soldier’s neck. “You looovvveee meee.”

“I did not say that, maggot!” Soldier complained, turning red as a beet.

“But you dooo~” Demo all but sang. He wrapped his free arm over so he was hugging Soldier from behind.

Although he looked away has his face flushed even darker, Soldier didn’t stiffen in Demo’s arms. “You’re drunk.”

“Can’t be. All my scrumpy’s gone.”

Despite his complaints, Soldier let the Demoman hug him a bit longer. Eventually the teasing won him over and his shoulders sagged, dropping his head his helmet against Demo’s head with a _thump_. It hurt like the dickens, but Demo was tired and happy enough not to care.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yo if you like Boots N Bombs check out our [discord server!](https://discordapp.com/invite/Hj8ydnS)


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